Marcello's Travels
by Maramishimo
Summary: This story follows Marcello after his plan to become Emperor is foiled. What lies ahead for our templar captain?Updated
1. Leaving the Abbey

**Whatever happened to Marcello after the events on Neos?**

"What do you mean captain!" the Templar's shouted, standing in Marcello's quarters. "Why aren't you remaining?"

"I have," Marcello paused, "much thinking to do."

"Can't you do that here?" another Templar asked.

"No," Marcello responded. A Templar handed him a bag about the same size as the bag 'the guv' carried.

"I packed you some weapons and some medicinal herbs."

"Good job," Marcello said with no enthusiasm. He grabbed the bag and looked at the Templars. He pointed at a random Templar. "You'll be the interim captain in my absence." Marcello marched out of the room and down the stairs. He stared at the sky while walking through the courtyard. "They don't deserve my presence anyway."

He walked away from the abbey, south toward Simpleton, planning to stop there. Memories invaded is mind:

_Marcello's father lifted him into the air, laughing heartily. Marcello, too, was laughing as his father played with him. His mother, who was also the maid, was wiping down a dresser, Marcello's father not paying her any mind. This was Marcello's fondest memory then came the event that ruined his entire life._

"_Father, the 'Lady' is getting quite expansive," Marcello informed his father, referring to his father's wife._

"_She's just putting on a little weight, pay it no mind," his father said._

"_It's more than that," his wife said from the doorway, her eyes filled with tears of joy. "I'm pregnant!"_

"_You're what!" He said jumping to his feet._

"_Father, what is preg--"_

_But he was cut off by his father's and would-be mother's happy exclamations. His father began to ask questions on when she found out and why had she been hiding it. She explained it vaguely. Then his father looked around._

"_We gotta make room for the baby!" He darted out of the room, exclaiming happily._

"_Come here, young Marcello," she said. "You're going to have a baby sibling," she said. "Won't that be fun?" She hugged Marcello tightly, beginning to cry. "This is a blessing upon our family, Marcello, it's going to be so wonderful seeing you play with your sibling and having fun."_

"_Playing with his sibling?" his father said, walking in, Marcello's biological mother in tow. "I must think not. Having both children in the same house would bring shame upon our household--"_

"_How much more shame can it bring than your affair, Husband?" she asked, looking at the maid._

"_I will not endure ridicule from the tripe out there!" He turned to the maid. "Take your son and get out!"_

"_Husband, she has every right to remain in our home here in Simpleton!" Angelo's mother said. "And her son has even more right!"_

"_Bite your tongue, woman!" he shouted at his wife. "As for you, harlot, get out!"_

_Marcello stood next to his biological mother, frightened. His mother had erupted into tears, pleading to remain in the house, saying she'd not to make contact with any of the children, and utterly hide the fact that she was Marcello's mother from the would-be Angelo._

"_See, Husband, let her stay. Her and my darling Marcello."_

"_I said, bite your tongue!" he exclaimed, tired of the arguing. "I am the patriarch of this household, what I say goes!" He stomped his foot angrily. "GET OUT NOW!"_

_And with that Marcello and his mother were cast out of Simpleton that very night. It was a terrible journey toward a small forest near Simpleton with all of the deadly monsters swarming the land. His mother sat at the trunk of a tree._

"_Marcello, my dear son, come to me." Marcello crawled to his mother and she embraced him. "I don't have much longer. I'm sorry my son, I don't want to leave you at a time like this, but this journey and the events prior have left me quite. . . vulnerable." _

_For once Marcello noticed her excessive breathing. She stared at the stars above as Marcello buried his head into her chest, wiping away tears and begging her not to go. "Stars are so beautiful, sparkling so brightly. When I was a girl I always hoped to become a star in the sky, so everyone'd see me and how beautiful I was." She continued to stare. "My son, promise me you'll become a star everyone will look up to."_

_Marcello looked at his mother, "mama?" His mother died, eyes reflecting the sparkle of the stars above. Marcello erupted into tears and buried his head in his mother's arm. Unknowingly, he fell asleep huddled next to his mother._

_He awoke the next day to the sound of birds singing. He stared at his mother when he got to his feet. There was an empty feeling in his chest, a dark void as if something had been stolen from him. Off in the distance he could see what seemed to be the top of a church and decided that's where he'd go._

Marcello stood at the fork leading to Simpleton. He eyed the glow of the lights coming from the buildings, it took him until nightfall to reach the fork for he'd visited the very tree his mother died. And here was Simpleton, the other place he knew as home and was thrown from, where another person he could have called mom had died. He picked up a sharp rock and carved 'Where dreams are destroyed' under Simpleton. He took the path around Simpleton declaring, "Nothing will stop me from becoming that star my mother wants me to be."


	2. Stowaway

Fending off hordes of monsters for this long was beginning to wear the former Captain of the Templars down. But that wasn't it, his clothes were torn until only his pants and cape were left, showing off his muscular torso and arms. He was also growing hungry. What the Templar had failed to mention was the inclusion of a couple pieces of cheese in the bag—Marcello had only eaten one. Marcello shuffled onward until he came upon a house next to a bridge, overlooking a river. Across the bridge was a chapel and onward would be Ascantha. He decided to ignore them both and head straight for Ascantha. But his body had its own decision on the matter. When Marcello tried to take another step toward the bridge he collapsed.

He awoke in a comfortable bed. He looked around to see an old woman sitting next to a spinning wheel and a young blond girl cooking a meal. He rubbed his head. The old woman smiled.

"Good afternoon, child," she said.

"I am no child," Marcello said bitterly.

"When you have lived as long as I, everyone is a child," she responded, ignoring his rudeness.

"Here you are, mister," she said, handing him the plate of food, which he snatched. "You really shouldn't travel on a empty stomach, sir, it's bad for your health."

"I didn't ask for an opinion," he responded coldly, between bites. She handed him milk to wash down the food and he drank it in one gulp. He got to his feet. The girl brought him a cloak and put it on Marcello. He walked to the door and stopped, he looked at the two. He struggled before saying, "Thank you, um--"

"My names Emma," the girl said. "I work at Ascantha Castle. This is my grandma."

"Indeed."

Marcello left the two in their home. He began to think of how rude he was to two people that had helped him, it reminded him of his two mothers, but he decided not to dwell on it and he continued his journey to Ascantha. His steps were filled with more pep as he walked past the chapel, fiddling with the handle of his rapier. His march was impeded by three bowyer bodkins, a puppeteer, an 2 bags o' laughs. He scoffed at the creatures.

Marcello waited for the creatures to attack first. The puppeteer cast Acceleratle on his team of monsters. The bag o' laughs laughed instead of attacking. The bodkins fired multiple arrows at Marcelo, which he dodged smoothly. He calmly began to chant. A light wind began to blow his cloak and hair back. As he continued to chant the wind became more intense, then he looked at his targets—the three bodkins. He unleashed his spell, announcing it's name, "KASWOOSH!"

The bodkins were wiped out. The puppeteer raised the tension of his team. But the bag o' laughs were destroyed by yet another spell by Marcello, this time he'd used Kathwack. The puppeteer had no other recourse but to attack. Marcello dodged the monsters attack and killed it with Flame Slash. He laughed and sheathed his sword. He continued his pace toward Ascantha. He reached Ascantha at nightfall. He went straight to the inn and rented a bed.

He couldn't sleep that night. Marcello sat up the entire night, staring at the walls. He pondered what he'd do with his life. He'd been disowned by his family, then shunned by the Abbey, what was there for him to do? He'd heard that his brother, Angelo, had turned his life around what could he do that would make him even better than Angelo? He pondered for hours on what he should do, then he went to sleep.

Marcello awoke to the sound of a gruff voice coming from the lobby. He sat up and looked for the source of the voice. He noticed a portly man wearing a strange helmet and recognized him as one of the people that had journeyed with Angelo.

"We're sorry we're so late, eh," Yangus said. "We just got a bit disorienmentated, y'kno?" He placed a box on the counter. "It'll only cost 'alf price, since we're late."

"Here you are, Mr. Yangus," the clerk said handing him a pouch of gold coins.

"Thank yer much," he said taking the money. Yangus turned and walked out of the inn. Marcello got to his feet and followed. He flipped his hood over his head as he stalked the portly Yangus as he walked to a horse drawn carriage being driven by a woman. "Ready ter go there, Red?"

"Yea, just 'urry up, ya bloke."

Yangus sat next to her. "W'ere to next, eh?"

"We're 'eadin' back to Pick'am, Dodgy wants sum'a 'r merchandise," Red responded whipping the reins. The horse whinnied before walking out of the town. Marcello dashed toward the carriage and jumped into the train.

"So 'ow's der guv, eh, Yangus?" Red asked.

"O' der Guv-King's been all right," Yangus said, "I ought ter visit 'im and der princess, it's been aw'ile."

"Wot are ya talkin'?" Red said. "Ya just went to their weddin'."

Wait, "Guv-King?" Marcello thought to himself. Didn't he call that kid with the red bandana "guv?" That kid's king now? But, he was such a commoner. 

"Plus I 'ear der 'ole gangs 'eadin' up to Trodain," Yangus said thoughtfully. "Sum sorta cer'mony, 'tween Trodain and Argonia. I t'ink they're gonna settle which country der Guv-King is gonna rule."

He gets to choose from two kingdoms! 

"So 'ow is it that 'e can be either the king of Argonia or Trodain?"

"See 'e's der son of der first born son of Argonia who left to chase after 'is wife, der Guv-Kings mudder, and der grandparents of der Guv-King and Princess Medea agreed on sum sorta love pac' thinger, I think t'at sums it up," Yangus explained vaguely.

"Quite," Red responded, not too fond of Yangus' method of storytelling.

That kid is so lucky. Marcello stared at the items in the carriage. To think, I called him a commoner and forced him on such a journey. A prince! 

The carriage wobbled along the ground slowly. Marcello was growing bored of sitting in a carriage, next to crates and barrels. He dipped in and out of Red's and Yangus' conversations—they were mostly talking about Pickham and planning their financial decisions. The two continued onward despite nightfall, Marcello nodded off.

He awoke the next morning to a loud crash and looked around—a crate had hit the floor and bushels of special herbs and rose roots spilled from it. Marcello eyed them for a second then snatched some up and shoved them into his bag. The carriage stopped.

"'Ey, Yangus, wake up ya bloke," Red said, prodding Yangus in the belly with her elbow.

"Eh, wha?" Yangus looked around sleepy. To the left was Morrie's monster arena. "Wha's buggin' ya, eh?"

"Somethin' crashed back t'ere, check to see what i' was," she said.

"Oh, Red, Pick'am's 'round der corner it can wait."

"Now ya know people in Pick'am ain't to be trusted," Red stated, stopping the carriage. "Check it now."

Yangus jumped to the ground, grumbling under his breath. Marcello saw the portly man's silhouette walking along the cabin. He quickly set the crate atop another crate and jumped from the back and ran behind a tree. Yangus hopped into the cabin and looked around.

"Red, t'ere ain't no problem back 'ere."

"Awright!" And the carriage started moving again, knocking Yangus over.

"Wot are yer doin', Red?"

"Like you said, 'Pick'am's righ' 'round der corner,' you can remain back t'ere, ya bloke."

Marcello eyed the carriage as it wheeled off. He flipped his hood over his head and proceeded to pursue the carriage. He didn't know how long he'd have to stay in Pickham, but he knew he'd await Yangus and Red to set sail for whatever continent they were headed to next and hitch yet another ride. His mind was also set on the boy who had defeated Dhoulmagus. Marcello made it to Pickham at high noon, but was barred from entry by a large muscular man wearing nothing more than an iron face mask, blue pants, and a large ax fastened to his back.

"Der price'a entry is 100 gold coins," he said.

"Let me through, clod!" Marcello commanded.

"Clod!" He exclaimed drawing his ax. Marcello drew his own weapon prepared to battle the large man.


	3. This Strange Feeling

The man wearing the helmet swung first. Marcello ducked under the ax's blade and rolled to the man's side. He wheeled around, swinging the ax viciously—Marcello barely dodged. Marcello held one palm toward the man and he was blown back by a small wind. He hunched forward and stepped toward Marcello, fighting the wind. Marcello frowned and summoned more wind to battle his opponent. While Marcello continued to concentrate on the magic he didn't notice the man clutch his ax tighter and before he knew it, the ax was flying toward him. Marcello fell back to avoid the weapon, releasing the magic. The ax found itself in a tree.

The man dashed toward Marcello as he got to his feet. He embraced the Templar Captain in hard bearhug, causing him to drop his sword. Marcello screamed in agony as he tightened his embrace. Marcello gritted his teeth as he struggled to look into the helmet—searching for his opponents eyes. He struggled to open his eyes. His eyes began to glow, causing the man to loosen his hold. Before he knew it, he was paralyzed. Marcello wiggled out the hold and picked up his sword and sheathed it. Marcello laughed at the man as he walked into Pickham.

"Ugh, this place is full of low-breeds," he commented. "And what's that horrendous odor? Have these mongrels even heard of bathing?" He looked to his left, people were walking out of a building comparing their amount of "tokens" they'd won. "Oh that's right these commoners indulge in gambling." Marcello looked at his map and headed to the pub.

When he entered the pub a man hit the wall next to the door. Marcello shifted his eyes around the shady establishment before proceeding to the bar and taking a seat. One of the patrons turned to Marcello.

"Ya look familyer, ya kno' that?" he said.

"Don't talk to me bottom-feeder," Marcello responded. The patron looked at the bar. The bartender brought Marcello a drink in a dirty glass. Marcello inspected the cup and slammed it down, deciding it'd be a lot healthier to not drink the stuff.

"You gon' finish t'at?"

"Knock yourself out," Marcello answered through gritted teeth, wishing this Pickhamite would leave him alone.

"Thank yer." Then he repeated, "ya kno' ya look familyer."

"You've already said that." Marcello was growing annoyed.

"Sorry, sir." Marcello got to his feet and walked out of the pub. As he left the patron whispered to the bartender, "weren't he a Templar."

Marcello flipped his hood over his head again and proceeded to looking for Yangus. He took a detour to the items and weapons shops to buy to equipment then he finally heard conversation of Red and Yangus heading back to Red's home. Now he had to find out where Red lived. Marcello stood around for awhile deciding what to do, then he came to conclusion that he'd have to talk to these bottom-feeders to find out where Red lived. So he swallowed his pride and asked around.

His interrogations of the townsfolk lasted for an hour before learning that Red lived off to the west of Pickham, south of something called the "Swordsman's Labyrinth" and north of the ocean. Marcello left as soon as he extracted the information, walked by the paralyzed man and proceeded toward Red's home. He despised himself for having to stalk someone as "common" as Yangus, but he'd nowhere else to go. He ran in the direction of Red's house, knowing that if he'd lost them now he'd have to head north and catch a ferry to Prospect. And Yangus was the only one that'd knew where Angelo was, so it was safe to say that stowing away on Yangus' transport would be best.

He made it to Red's home at nightfall. Her house lights were on and two shadows were walking by the windows. He looked to her stable and chose to hide in there, only to find an attendant with the horses.

"Hey, who 're--" Marcello held his sword to the attendant's neck.

"You'd be wise not to speak," Marcello suggested. "Now, I need to stowaway on your boss's ship, where're they headed."

"T'ey, t'ey 're 'eaded to Baccarat, to deliver sumfin to rich siblin's," he answered nervously. "T'ey're leavin' tomorrow morn--"

"Good, good." Marcello walked to the carriage and jumped into it. The crates and barrels were still there. "I'm going to be spending the night in here. If I am discovered, your life shall be mine." The attendant stood there motionless. Marcello moved the crates and boxes to allow himself to sleep hidden among them. After his adjustments he ate a piece of cheese and went to sleep.

He awoke the next morning to movement. He jumped from the carriage and found himself in a small stable. He looked out a porthole, he was on the ship and they were out at sea. Then he heard footsteps pounding on the wood floor, headed towards the room. He quickly jumped toward the wall next to the door. It opened slowly, concealing Marcello from the sight of anyone coming in. It was Yangus, grumbling about how Red should be fixing the order of the crates since she was complaining.

"Oh, Yangus, do t'is f'r me, do t'at f'r me," he said, trying his hardest to make a female voice. "Yangus, yer so lazy, do sumfin 'round 'ere."

Marcello snuck out of the stable while Yangus grumbled to himself. It was an interesting ship, had at least 5 cabins, which was unnecessary because there was no crew aside from that one man that had been standing at Red's door. This was not a ship that should belong to commoners like Red and Yangus so Marcello questioned how they came into possession of it. He went to one of the empty cabins, closed the door and locked it. He sat on the bed and grabbed his gold rosary.

"Mother, I apologize for my actions on Neos. I've been selfish since your death. I'd vowed to become a star, but I used any methods available to reach it, and I know that's not what you want of me." His fist overwhelmed his gold rosary as his head rested upon it. "What I've been doing is not something a star should do. Mother, guide me to what should be done." He sucked in his breath as a single tear formed in his left eye. "I promise mother, I will become a star and it will happen soon."

Marcello looked out the porthole and noticed that the sky was dark and that the water wasn't moving, as a matter of fact the boat wasn't swaying. He got to his feet and walked to the door. The lock clicked as he opened the door. He walked to the ships deck and looked at the sky, it was indeed dark and and the water wasn't moving. Marcello bumped into Red. He was just as motionless.

"What's going on?" He continued to look around, growing more and more nervous by the second. He looked off to the horizon to get an idea of where they could be. To the east he could see an island that seemed as if it were missing something. His heart jumped when he realized it was Neos. He looked west and saw a large mass of land heading upward, like a mountain in the middle of the ocean. Something felt strange as if he was being watched, then he fainted.


	4. Rhapthorne's Son

The King of Trodain-Argonia sat next to his wife Medea, telling her interesting jokes he'd learned from heard from a couple bunny girls on his travels—most were very explicit, but Medea laughed regardless. Now that the two friends were married, they found it too easy to do the stuff they'd once done when they weren't married—such as running away for hours. But they were known for playing with the children of Trodain, sometimes even skipping matters with the vizier. King Trode didn't mind at all, although the vizier viewed them as too old to play around, they were still only 18, and she play around a bit longer. But he worried about his son-in-law though. He wondered which kingdom he'd choose—his birthright to Argonia or the place he'd called home for 18 years, Trodain.

But, the two weren't without SOME responsibility. The two came to the decision Trodain would help restore the chapel on Neos. And the King turned to his uncle Clavius for permission to use Argonian funds for the same reason. Clavius reported that he could do whatever he wanted, and announced to the people that his nephew made the decision on his own. But, the King--who was sometimes called Hero, Eight, and Eltrio Jr. by his uncle—didn't feel at place ordering the Argonians around, although he was their rightful king. He remembered what Clavius had told him at the Lord High Priests Mansion:

"_A person coming out of the blue and claiming the title would throw the people in utter turmoil."_

And he felt the same now that he held the decision to choose his Kingdom. He loved the people of Trodain, they were all family. But he also felt that he was more than ready to claim Argonia. Not only did he have his father's Argon ring, but, also, the one he'd got for Charmles--which wasn't necessary because the young prince bought an Argon heart--was resting on the finger of his lovely wife. So he felt that he should take Argonia as his kingdom, the people were embracing his rule well enough. Clavius and the young King had met a couple weeks ago, planning to hold a ceremony at Trodain for which kingdom he'd want. But, Clavius then sent a carrier bird to his nephew requesting that the ceremony'd be held at Savella Cathedral.

"DRAGON!" A soldier shouted running into the throne room. He ran up to the king, and also his former captain—which he was for only a few months. "Your Majesty, there's a dragon out there!"

A pointy eared male with long blond hair walked in. He was wearing a red and black robe and was holding a long staff which was taller than him. The king automatically knew him as the Lord of the Dragovians as he proceeded along the threshold. The guards tried to bar him from entrance, ordering him to state his business, but they froze in place and he brushed by.

"King... erm, hm," he said, bowing to the King. Then he avoided calling him king. "Your Highness, I have a request."

"What is it, my Lord?" the king asked.

"I have a matter to pick up with your grandfather," the Lord of the Dragovians looked around. "Where might he be?" The mouse, known as Munchie, scurried toward the Lord of Dragovians, who picked him up. "Do you like being a mouse, Chen Mui? I've granted you to that you'd be able to use all your forms." The mouse squeaked.

"Should I be worried?" the King asked.

"Not presently, my king, but I'll send your grandfather back later." The lord of the Dragovians walked from the castle, transformed into one of his dragon forms—he chose the Gold Dragon—and flew to the Dragovian Sanctuary.

They arrived at the Dragovian Sanctuary's council room, where the elders waited. The greeted their lord and Chen Mui upon their arrival. Chen Mui greeted them back then sat in an empty seat, the lord opted to stand in front of the dragon statue. It was a bit quiet before one elder piped.

"What could possibly have you so worried, my lord?"

"Rhapthorne--" he said, then pausing.

"But, Chen Mui's grandson defeated him, we don't have to worry about him."

"What if I told you, that one gate Chen Mui's grandson walked through, didn't close after Rhapthorne was defeated?" He looked at their faces, "respond as if I were your equal." They were still quiet.

"I'd say you were a damned fool!" Chen Mui answered, knowing the others were too afraid to speak their mind.

"That's what I thought," the lord said. "I thought I was going crazy, watching the world below, but the portal is indeed open. But it wasn't by Rhapthorne or that huge bird." He began to pace. "Rhapthorne, had a son, I guess you could say, or an incarnation." They looked at him shocked. "And he's capable of possessing people. But there is one rule of how he can possess a person, the person must be self-conscious."

"What's the problem, it's all the way on that island that can't accessed by the known world."

"It doesn't take much to find a self-conscious human—they're a dime a dozen—and jump from the island." Chen Mui said.

"So here's what we do," another elder input, "send Chen Mui's grandson and his companions to eradicate the demon and call it a day."

"He's so powerful, if only he were a full Dragovian." What the elder said piqued the lord's interest. And he ignored the elders for a bit.

"But the problem is, when did he jump from the portal?" They all looked at their lord who wasn't paying attention. "Lord?"

"What is it?"

"When did Rhapthorne's son escape?"

"A couple days ago, but he's been in some sort of cave south of Empychuu." Chen Mui knew what cave it was, for he had ventured through the shadow version of it—in the young king's pocket.

"I'll defeat him myself," Chen Mui said, rising. "If my grandson can defeat creatures, I can."

"No, Chen Mui, I've a different plan." The Lord proceeded to the stairs. "I must head to the Heavenly Dais. Back to your lives."

**What should I call the Hero of Dragon Quest? I don't know what to call him, besides from what I listed, so gimme something be it what's already listed or something from your own game file.**


	5. More Stowaways

An Empychuu tribesman ran along the valley. He was different from other tribesmen, he was oddly muscular and was wearing a sabrecat fur as a cape. He was being followed by 3 other tribesmen, who were average. They ran across the valley, over the still blades of grass, staring at the sky that was equally motionless. They came to the edge and saw a boat below.

"Master, look," one tribesman said pointing at the boat. But it wasn't the boat that caught his attention, it was the movement of a person on the boat.

"What's happened to the spell?"

"I got another, no worries," the muscular tribesman said. He pointed his hand toward the ship. With that the person fell to the deck of the ship. "Take note that we should avoid whoever that is while on the ship." They all jumped.


	6. Left in Baccarat

"_Marcello," a voice rang in Marcello's head. He looked around there was nothing but darkness. His eyes felt strained, then he realized they were closed tightly—he was dreaming. "Marcello, can you hear me."_

"_Who's there?" Marcello asked. Then the image of an armored guardsman._

"_I am Alistair," the guardsman said. "I was trying to reach for Jessica, my sister, but you'll do. There is an evil presence in your world, one plotting to conquer the world by tearing it apart. Marcello, I ask you to round up my sister and her friends and defeat this evil."_

"_What makes you think I'll want to do something like that?" Marcello said bitterly, not to be the one to deliver messages to anyone._

"_The decision is up to you, I like the power to project any further, by the way, you've lost Yangus and Red." And Alistair's image disappeared._

Marcello awoke in a nice comfy bed. But it was a rude awakening:

"NO! NO! NO!" a voice exclaimed from outside the room. "I will not share a room with riff raff. I demand the royal suite, for my high social status." The voice was hard to understand, for his R's were sounding like W's.

Marcello sat up and rubbed his head. "Damn, what happened?"

"If you need my services, I will be in the casino!" the voice exclaimed.

The attendant, which was a bunny girl escaping from the horrid show being performed in the basement, walked into the room. "Oh, you're awake?" She walked to him and handed him a glass of water. "Sorry about the noise outside, that kid is just so stubborn." She fixed the other bed in the room. "You know you've been unconscious for a couple days now, you had the people you were with quite worried."

"Who brought me here and where am I?"

"A gruff, portly man and his girlfriend, they both had strange accents," she said, "but they were very nice. Even spent a small fortune in the casino before departing. And you're in Baccarat."

"Did they say where they were headed?"

"Arcadia, they said they needed to deliver something to Desmond." The bunny girl headed toward the door. "I'd advise you to avoid the basement." She left Marcello in the room.

Marcello got to his feet and grabbed his cloak from the hook on the wall. He tied it on, but didn't put the hood up because he had nothing to hide and plus Yangus and Red had already discovered him. He walked from the room and almost instantly heard annoying singing emanating from below. It sounded like someone strumming a guitar poorly, while trying to rhyme made-up words.

"Ugh, why'd he even allow this guy to perform!" one person said, covering his ears while running toward his room. "I thought the mole gimmick would be something interesting. But this is not interesting!"

Another shouted, "that moleman needs to take off the outfit and return to the HOLE he crawled from!"

Marcello could, although he didn't want to, sympathize with them, he could hear the noise all the way up here. So he decided to head through the door that lead to the casino so he could see what was so good about gambling.

There was a crowd around a roulette table, everyone was groaning. Marcello asked what was going on and was informed that the one person rented the casino so that he'd have it all to himself, forcing everyone to stand around and watch.

"Come, Roulette table, Charmles (SHARM-Lay) needs that ring!" The sound of the wheel turning was drowned by the groaning of the people. Marcello noticed a girl standing next to the door, she looked pissed.

Marcello stood there staring at her. He felt his chest jump with excitement and his stomach lurch. His ears grew hot and his cheeks were reddening. There was a lump in his throat whenever he swallowed and he found it hard to breath. The girl noticed his stare, flipped her hair back an approached him.

"Hello, patron," she said, extending a hand. Marcello took her hand and shook it, slowly. "My name's Carrie, my brother Cash and I run this casino."

"My name's Marcello," he responded, after a short silence.

"Nice to meet you, Marcello, sorry to tell you, even though I would love to take your money, we can't at the moment, not while 'Charmless' over there is hogging the casino. I'm not too angry, though, it costs a lot of money to rent this place out. I hope you'll return at a later date, ciao." Carrie left the casino.

Marcello watched her leave and argued with himself over why he hadn't said more. But he found the feeling he'd got rather weird. He never felt that way before and decided his hardest not to think of it. He sensed the same feeling he felt while on the boat lurking behind him. Someone was watching him and he was going to find out who. Someone tapped his shoulder and he spun around, hand ready to draw his sword.

"Calm down, Marcello, it's only me," silver haired male said.

"You!"

"I have a name, brother."

"Don't call me that," Marcello spat, removing his hand from his sword. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he repeated. "This is a casino, brother, you are a Templar. What are YOU doing here?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Marcello answered.

"Well, then, Marcello, I don't think I need to answer to you."

"Whatever," Marcello turned and left the casino, walking past the Empychuu tribesmen. They eyed him before entering the casino. Marcello stood outside for awhile deciding what he should do, then he decided to stay in Baccarat, wine and dine at the restaurant, stay at the hotel, all while waiting for Red and Yangus to return and avoid his brother.

**I need readers' choice for a name for 'Hero' if I am to continue the story. It's not vital, really, I just want to please the readers out there.**


	7. Bizarre Break in Baccarat

Baccarat was filled with weird events over the course of the week. The casino indeed opened back to the public, due to the fact he couldn't spend anymore Argonian funds. But the prince remained in Baccarat and even got a room away from Marcello, to Marcello's and Charmles' request alike. The oddest thing Marcello noted was his frequent thoughts of Carrie, it was unnatural for him to think of anything but himself and how he'd gain the fame he so richly deserved. Whenever he found himself thinking of her, he dashed his thoughts. Then there was Alistair, Jessica's "brother," he remembered that he'd asked for Marcello to deliver the message to Jessica and everyone who had defeated Rhapthorne, and his brother was in Baccarat as well, gambling away, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to the man that ruined his life. Marcello sat in his room for hours, wishing he'd died in Neos just like all those unfortunate people that heard his—to himself—wonderful speech. Since Angelo saved him, his life has fallen into a deeper rut. He was haunted by the thoughts of his dead mother and all that was taken from him, it was horrible.

The hotel was losing business as well, what with that "moleman" hogging the stage every night. The caretaker inquired where he'd come from and the mole simply replied, in song, "I come from a dark hole in Ascantha, now listen on to my witty banta." The way the moleman answered annoyed the caretaker and ended the conversation right there. What's worse was that the moleman had no intention of leaving anytime soon, so they were stuck with his limelight hogging, which ended up moving the bunny girl show to the afternoon slots. Patrons also noted that the man's posse was that of smaller people also dressed as moles, making people think the gimmick was getting out of hand.

Angelo was the only one to note the very odd things in Baccarat. He noticed Marcello around, since he continually dropped by the casino then left after about an hour, not playing a single game. Angelo dubbed it as weird, but never confronted his half brother over the matter. What caught Angelo's attention was the Empychuu tribesmen. Empychuu was a village in a "mountain" in the middle of the ocean, how did they get to Baccarat? He tried to converse with the large muscular one, but the others wouldn't allow him to get close. The people just thought they were traveling performers, but they didn't pay attention too much to them. Angelo also noted that they always stayed in the casino until closing hours, then they'd leave the casino and the town altogether, but he didn't know why. He decided to head to the restaurant and check the talk of the town.

"Brother!" he shouted seeing Marcello sitting at a table. Marcello diverted his attention to a wall away from Angelo. Angelo sat in the chair across from him and propped his feet onto the table.

"What did I tell you about calling me that!" Marcello said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, lighten up, Captain of the Templar's," Angelo responded, picking up a menu. "Your always so mad, I'd think you'd be more appreciative towards the man who saved your life."

"Saved my life!" Marcello finally looked at Angelo. "If it weren't for you and your idiot friends I'd own this world!" He jumped to his feet, slamming his hands into the table. "You didn't save my life! You damn near ended it!"

"Yeah, I'll have your finest wine," Angelo said to the waitress, then he looked at Marcello. "Quiet down, Marcello, maybe you haven't noticed this but no one knows what happened on Neos was your fault."

"My fault--" Marcello said, beginning to chuckle. "It wasn't my fault 'brother,' it was all YOUR fault! It's your fault I ended up getting kid out of the house and becoming a Templar, it's your fault and your father's fault!" A vein bulged from his forehead. "I think it was all part of your plan when you were nothing more than a 'seed'! I caught on, Angelo, you waited, bided your time until I was born and led a nice life with MY family! Then when your father decided to get intimate with his wife, YOU had to show up then!"

"Marcello..."

"What's worse is you live your life all carefree, with no regret of a life you stole from me!" Marcello sat silent looking at the wall again, fighting back tears of anger and the urge to attack his half-brother. Angelo watched him for awhile.

"Marcello," he began, "I hope you don't really think this was all a clever plan I devised when I wasn't even old enough to think." Angelo switched his voice to sound like Marcello to give himself a snide remark, "You're barely old enough to think now." Angelo sipped the wine. "But to think that I've no regrets of what my coming to life has done to yours is absolutely appalling. I've thought of what life would be like from your end, and I can tell it isn't glamorous, having to jump hurdles and disprove the low standards everyone sets for you."

Marcello scoffed as Angelo continued. "But, have you ever thought of how my life is like? Constant hatred from your older half-brother. Having to live up to high standards. I envy you though. No one compares you to father. We share common blood, Marcello, we both lost our parents, we're all that's left. We're family, whether you like it or not." Marcello got to his feet. "A man once told me 'the things you may hate of someone reflects on something about yourself'. I just hope one day you'll realize how alike we are, and come to call me 'brother' and join me in my life. You know, what Abbot Francisco did for us both." He put down a pouch of gold, "thats for the wine. Au revoir." Angelo left his brother at the table.

"Angelo!" a voice called. Angelo looked around and saw Medea waving to him. "Angelo!" She called running toward him. "Good day, Angelo."

"Hey, erm...should I call you Queen?"

"Medea will do," she answered with a smile. "I am not as much like my father that you must always be formal. Outside Trodain, even Argonia, I am Medea, normal woman."

"Not many women have been cursed and turned into a horse, Medea," Angelo said. "Or journeyed across the world, defeating a great evil AND marry the boy that's not even fully human."

"Always the details with you, Angelo," she said. "Ooooh, you know my husband and I've taken enough gold for some gambling, are you game?"

"You had me at 'enough gold'." They walked to the casino together. "What're you doing in Baccarat?"

"Charmless is here, and he wants to speak with his cousin over the matter of the Kingdom selection. You coming to the ceremony? It's been moved to Savella Cathedral."

Angelo looked at her, she was being oddly informal. "Yeah, matter of fact, I'm waiting for Jessica to here. Yangus and Red are in Arcadia, they should be back soon."

They walked into the casino, Angelo wasn't surprised to see the Empychuu tribesmen, but he was surprised to see them leaving. Medea questioned their presence and Angelo told the very little he knew. He also informed her that Marcello was in town, she wasn't thrilled about this information, she just couldn't stand Marcello's attitude.

"Please, cousin," Charmles said to King Eight as he sat on the bed. His cousin looked at him with a slight smile on his face as Charmles paced around. "I'm begging you, being King of Argonia is all I have."

"Cousin, cousin, cousin," Eight said shaking his head. "The fact of the matter is, I'm more worthy of the Argonian throne, even my companions are. I was born first, I finished the test for the Argon heart—YOU bought yours—plus, you're afraid of lizards. I don't see how far Argonia can get with a leader that's afraid of lizards."

"Take that back, cousin!" Charmles shouted. "I've lived in Argonia longer, people know me."

"They can grow accustomed to me."

"Your friends are in Trodain!"

"I can make new friends, I found out through my travels that its easy for me."

"No! The throne is my royal birthright!"

"Ok, ok, since you put it that way, I will definitely take it under consideration." Eight got to his feet, Charmles was almost in tears. "I'm only kidding, cousin, I had every intention of remaining in Trodain, it's my home. Sure I'm entitled to Argonia, but I presently have no idea how you guys govern things, I will make my announcement next week at Savella." He walked to the door. "I have to find my wife now, see you later cousin."

Charmles slumped into his bed as the Empychuu tribesmen walked in.

"Was that the King of Trodain-Argonia?" the muscular leader inquired.

"Who are you?" Charmles demanded. "Get out of my room!"

"Remember, the R's always sound like W's," the leader said, as one of the tribesmen approached the prince.


	8. I Don't Need This

Marcello was unfortunate to bump into King Eight upon walking from the restaurant, both falling to the floor.

"What where you're going, you ignoramus!" Marcello yelled, not knowing who it was.

"I apologize," Eight said, getting to his feet and extending his hand to Marcello.

Marcello slapped his hand away, "I don't need your help." Marcello got to his feet and looked at the boy. "I hear you're king now. Way to go." Eight noted the sarcasm and didn't respond cheerfully as he normally would. "You just got lucky with your life. As far as I'm concerned, you and Angelo are just being blessed at every turn. The Goddess really loves you!" Marcello stormed off. Eight sighed and shook his head.

Medea squealed happily, standing next to the roulette table. Angelo stared at her, a bit disappointed. He looked at his minimal amount of tokens, then at Medea's HUGE stack of tokens.

"Normal women, right," he murmured to himself. Medea continued to hop and squeal. "I'm glad you're happy."

"I want to put half on 18, because thats how old I am!" she told the man running the table. The man slid half her tokens over 18, took the ball, spun the wheel and dropped the ball in. Medea held her hands together, her eyes following the ball circling the wheel. She squealed as it landed in 18.

"18!" The man shouted. Angelo looked at her stack again, she was very lucky. Then he smirked and rose an eyebrow.

"Hey, Medea, how about a good luck kiss?" he said, puckering up, moving toward her. Medea pushed him away. "Well, can't say I didn't try."

"Maybe you'll be lucky if you bet on the same thing I did, Angelo."

"Then that wouldn't be gambling," Angelo stated.

Cheering emanated from outside. The patrons looked around as the cheers continued. Soon a crowd walked in holding Eight over their heads.

"What you do!"

"That mole from Ascantha," Eight began, trying to break free. "The one that stole the harp." He continued to try to break free. "He was 'performing' at the inn, to the dismay of the people. I asked him to leave, lest he wanted what happened in the cave to happen once more—he left." And the crowd cheered more.

Marcello had noticed the crowd carrying Eight around, and it angered him even more. With Angelo, Medea and Eight in town, Baccarat was too overcrowded for him. Especially with the inevitable arrival of Jessica, then there was Yangus and Red. The thought of Alistair's message prodded his mind, yet again. He knew Jessica would be there soon, Eight was already there, Angelo was there as well. But, interacting with these people, as if they were equal to himself was a travesty. Marcello went to his room, grabbed his bag, and left Baccarat behind, without anyone's notice. He stopped a couple feet away, he turned to the town, and with one last awkward thought of Carrie, he continued on his path.

His first stop was at Chateau Felix. Tom stood at the door.

"Purrr, I am Tom," he reported. "Purrr, what is it that I can help you with?" Marcello glared at him. "Purrr, I bet you want to speak with the master, rrright?"

"Not really."

Tom looked at him and purred. "You'rrre just kidding, I can tell. Master Felix is famous farrr and wide." Marcello's interest was sparked upon the mention of fame. "I see that look, I knew you wanted to meet him." Tom purred. "Firrrst I have to ask a few questions." Marcello sighed. "Firrrst question: You come upon a cute kitten in the rain, if he doesn't find shelter he'll surely die. But everyone at your house hates cats, what do you do?"

"Leave the cat, I've got no time to be worried about cats."

The answer shocked Tom, and he purred, it wasn't a happy purr though. "Second question: You are a kings retainer and you have gone hunting. A great sabrrrecat is caught in a trap, but the king hasn't noticed yet, what do you do?"

"The likelihood of me working for a king is slim, and to hunt, the thought is maddening!" Marcello said snidely. "To answer your question, I'd kill the cat and use his pelt to warm myself."

Tom, once again, was shocked. "Finally, you are in a heated battle with a great sabrecat, it seems you are the victor, but he gets up and looks at you as if he wants to join you, what do you do?"

"I've no time for cats, don't you understand!" Marcello yelled. "The world can do with little sabrecats—I'd kill it."

Tom looked into Marcello's eyes, as to get an idea of what was going through his mind. Marcello stared back coldly, growing annoyed with this guy that keeps purring. "Let's see how you did. Time to let the cat out of the bag:...Aw too bad, you are not worthy of meeting Master Felix. You can try again."

"I'd rather not waste any more time with a twit like you," Marcello said turning to leave. "And get rid of that purr, it's annoying, you freak." Marcello left Chateau Felix, and followed the path away from Baccarat and Chateau Felix, he'd only been to two places on this continent and was already tired of it. His next destination was Argonia, hoping it would have a more promising outlook.


	9. Look to the Stars

The Lord of the Dragovians paced in the Heavenly Dais, stroking his chin. He was shocked to find Chen Mui standing in his path. He stopped abruptly and looked at the old man.

"Chen Mui, you surprised me," the lord said.

"I could tell, my lord," he responded. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"I was pondering what one of the elders said about your grandson," the lord informed him, "how to make him a full Dragovian. I thought it were possible, but I've nothing."

"My grandson doesn't need to be a Dragovian to battle this new evil—which I must inform you I've seen nothing of— " Chen Mui said. "He can take care of everything with his companions."

"I hope you're right--" the lord looked at him. "You haven't found Rhapthorne's son?"

"Nope," Chen Mui said looking to the sky. "It's been smooth sailing."

"...This is odd." The lord rubbed his eyes. "Maybe this is just something that was in the back of my mind while I was in my term of insanity."

"Possibly."

"Inform the council that I, with all my wisdom, was wrong."

"I'm not doing that," Chen Mui said, about to leave. "You do it."

"You're right, I should settle this myself."

Marcello awoke in a tent with other people around. It took him two days to get here and Argonia was still pretty far. He thought he should rest in this tent, if only for a bit. But the others told him stories of an old man living in the forest—a blind man. They told him the man was well off and some sort of magician or ex-magician. Marcello weighed the distance between the tent, Argonia and even the old man's hut. He decided to go to the hut, perhaps this old man could help him, one way or another. The type of help Marcello had in mind was learning devastating magic. Oh how the people would cower before him if he unleashed sheer power on the population!

Yet another day passed before he made it to the hut. There were monsters in the house, which Marcello found weird, he was about ready to kill them before one monster told him against it. There was a slime in the house that knew where the old man was, for he was not in the house. Marcello tried all means, bribery,—whatever you can give a monster—charm, which was more Angelo's field, for it only took Marcello two sentences to give the task up, then there was threats. But the slime was sure not to tell him anything. Marcello left the hut angrily and walked around the forest, stumbling upon the mystical spring.

He drank from the spring and splashed his face. He stared at his reflection for awhile, a strange look in his eyes. His eyelids were drooping low, he thought he was tired, he wasn't tired—he was sad. This was unusual, he was always angry, occasionally happy, but sadness was never anything he felt. He pondered his life further, discovering so far that nothing he wanted had come to be—he contemplated taking his own life, here at this mystical spring.

"You don't need to be sad young man," a voice came from behind him. Marcello turned to see an old man walking toward the spring. "I understand your unhappiness, but you gotta work through it."

"You don't know anything about me!" Marcello said turning to the old man.

"You are filled with such pain," the old man said. "You are troubled by much loss." Marcello looked at the old man, and noticed that he was blind.

"You're that man they told me about."

"Hm, seems word travels of me often in these parts nowadays."

"You've got to teach me great magic, old man!" Marcello demanded.

"Hm, magic, hoho," the old man chuckled. "Magic, m'boy, takes years upon years of practice."

"I don't care, I need to learn great magic, it's important!"

"I fear you haven't the time, dear boy." The old man pointed to the dark, night sky, lit with thousands of stars. "Look at the stars, which one does gives off the greatest strength to you."

Marcello looked at the man coldly before looking to the sky. It took a while for him to find the star that gave off the most energy. "That one," he said eyes locked on the star.

"Describe the star to me," the old man said, using his powers to feel the vibe of the star he chose.

"It's. . . dim, fading." Marcello didn't know if that were good or bad so he asked, "what does it mean?"

"Dear boy, if that star falls from the sky--" the old man paused, "--you will die."

Marcello looked at the man, shocked. He felt his heart sink and he was thrust into a deep despair. He sat down and eyed the stars. He frowned and got to his feet. "I don't believe! I will not trust in some star to decide when I'm going to die!" He was breathing heavily. "I will not die, until I achieve what is to be done!" The old man felt his vibes. Marcello erupted into a state of super high tension. But then he fell unconscious.

The next week the "Rhapthorne Eradicators" as Eight and co. were called met at Baccarat. Jessica came to town sporting an "interesting" outfit, and even bought Medea the same. Eight was speechless when he saw the gift his companion brought for his wife and knew his father-in-law wouldn't enjoy seeing her in the outfit, Yangus agreed.

"M'dea," Yangus said trying to imitate Trode. "T'at ain't nuffin' a Queen shoul' be wearin'. We 'ave an image to up'old, yer kno'. Yer 'er 'usband, talk sum sense in 'er, eh?" The gang laughed.

"Medea'd look fine in the outfit, King Trode," Jessica played along. "Plus this is only for when, ya know, when she and the King—" she nudged Eight in the stomach and winked. "Right?"

Eight looked at her, mouth agape. Medea simply giggled, "it's a wonderful gift. Thank you Jessica. Thank you everyone."

"'Ey, Eight, wot's up wi' yer gran'dad, eh?" Yangus inquired. "I be seein' 'im walkin' 'round all normality like, eh?"

"The Lord is allowing him to use his human form now, so he's living it up," Eight responded.

"Wot're we still 'ere for?" Red asked. "Dun you 'ave a ceremony to get to, eh?"

"She's right, let's get moving," Angelo said and they were off for Savella Cathedral.

Everyone was there, the king of Ascantha and Emma, King Clavius and Charmles, Princess Minnie and her father, Cash and Carrie, Lord High Priest Rolo, King Trode and the Vizier, the Interim Templar Captain, Felix and Tom, Kalderasha and his daughter, Jessica's mother, the two boys that acted as bodyguards for Jessica, Brains, and those Empychu tribesmen were there, though one was missing.

Eight made his announcement of which kingdom he'd take—Trodain—to thunderous applause. Clavius supported the decision, he was a bit disappointed but was still happy for his nephew. Clavius, then, made his own announcement. Stating that Charmles was now the King of Argonia, as a result of Eight's decision. There was moderate applause as Charmles pushed his cousin away so he could be the center of attention.

"People, people! Please, no more, no more!" Charmles said, his R's sounding like R's. Angelo frowned upon hearing his voice. The muscular tribesmen coughed. "It is my honor--"he continued, his R's now sounding like W's. "To undertake the duty of being king of Argonia. I say three cheers for Argonia and Trodain!" The crowd erupted into applause. Among all the excitement, no one noticed Charmles and the tribesmen sneak off.


	10. Escape

Marcello ended up staying at the man's hut for a week—against his will as he was unconscious. He awoke in the dead of night, everyone—monsters included were sleep. "What a slob, being blind is no excuse to live with monsters." Marcello packed the little things he had, put his cloak on and headed out the house. Marcello now thought coming here was nothing more than a waste of time. As if he, Marcello, would believe his fate was to be decided by the stars. He knew that only he could decide where his life would take him, and through this came a bitter hatred toward the old man. Marcello's new plan was to head for Argonia, to decide what he'd do from there. But he couldn't help but look at the stars above as he walked, staring at the one that was nearly gone, like a dwindling fire—this was his star.

When he emerged from the forest a wagon caught his attention. Around the wagon were Argonian soldiers, it was safe to say someone of importance was in it, be it King Clavius, King Eight, or Charmless. "Is it natural for Argonian royals to travel in the middle of the night like this?" Marcello wondered. The march continued onward toward Argonia. They were oddly silent as well, no one interacted and their footsteps seemed rather soft, as if they weren't trying to be noticed in the night. Marcello quietly snuck behind the wagon and it's soldiers. The more he tailed them, the more he couldn't help but wonder about their silence, then he noticed one soldier lean to another and they began to whisper.

Charmless' face poked from the wagon and it frowned at the soldiers. "You incompetent riff-raff, I told you, no ruckus!" The young king shouted, his R's being pronounced as W's. His head went back into the wagon and the soldiers continued their march. They reached Argonia in a matter of hours. Marcello entered after them and went straight to the inn, he was tired and decided to visit the castle and then head onto Arcadia. He sat down on his bed and took off his bag.

"Hm, whats this feeling?" Marcello, again felt that ominous, evil presence he'd sensed before. It was coming from the castle. He decided to head to the castle. The guards around the castle were scarce, standing around and greeting Marcello kindly, which he ignored and headed up. He went to the throne room first to find the vizier writing on a roll of parchment, not paying any attention—this wasn't where the ominous presence was emanating. "Damn."

He turned and headed further to the top of the castle, passing numerous attendants and guards who were very polite. With each step toward the top, the presence grew stronger. He stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to the top-most tower. This is where the presence was. Looking back at what the old man had told him put a newfound anxiety in his chest as he slowly ascended.

At the top of the tower was Charmles, who was looking into the dark horizons. He was wearing a sinister grin as he watched the night sky. The muscular tribesman was in the shadows behind Charmles, holding a round green. . .sack?

"The plan is unfolding as it should," the tribesman said. "Just one more step and this world will be in utter turmoil. My father went about this all wrong. And I will show him how to destroy a world." The tribesman threw the "sack" to the floor, which turned out to be. . . Charmles? The other Charmles snickered.

"What is this twickewy?" The real Charmles asked.

"This is no trickery, this is but a plan that Rhapthorne couldn't do himself," the tribesman said. "See, we are going to bring this world into turmoil, using Argonia as are headquarters."

"I will not allow it!" Charmles shouted. "I am the King of Awgonia and my cousin killed Rhapthowne, you awe out of youw league!"

"Hold that thought," the tribesman said. He spun around and caught Marcello's arm, as it was coming down for a slash. Marcello grunted in pain as he squeezed his wrist. "I know you. You're the one from the boat and Baccarat." The tribesman threw him to the ground and cracked his knuckles. "So you followed me to Argonia have you."

"What should we do with him boss?" the other Charmles said. The tribesman drew a hand ax and stared at Marcello. Marcello got to his feet, knowing that if were to survive this ordeal, he'd have to fight.

The tribesman swung as viciously as possible. Marcello pulled his rapier up to block the attack and they stood in a weaponlock, which the tribesman was winning due to his stature. The man pushed Marcello to his knees, still holding their weapons together. Marcello struggled to get to his feet, but was unable. He glanced at his own steel and noticed what was happening. He'd heard a cracking when they first held their weapons together, now he knew what it was. Marcello's sword was breaking under the pressure. He didn't want his only weapon to break, so Marcello pulled his blade away causing the ax to cut his left shoulder. Marcello fell, dropping his sword. He held his arm, fighting back tears of pain.

"I thought he would've been a much tougher force," the tribesman said. "After preventing my spell. But, now I see, he is nothing better than any other mortal." The huge man raised an eyebrow as he felt a strong wind blowing his sabrecat fur. They hadn't noticed Marcello was casting a wind spell, a powerful wind spell. They closed their eyes to avoid the strong wind. Marcello grabbed the real Charmles' arm and dashed down the steps.

"You let go of my awm," Charmles ordered.

"I'm saving your life, kid, how about we be appreciative about it?" Marcello thought about the words he'd just used. He found it rather hypocritical, but he continued to run, dragging the newly named king with him. As he ran, he ignored the huge wound in his arm, even with the amount of blood seeping out. "Where is your stable, we're gonna take horses out of Argonia and toward Arcadia."

"Leave Awgonia?" Charmles was in shock. "I will not leave Argonia!"

"You must, if you remain, who knows what they'll do to you!" Marcello reminded him, "did you not notice one them looked exactly like you, I'd say right now you're nothing to them!"

"Fine, just head down those stairs."

Marcello dragged him down the stairs he'd instructed and soon found himself in the stable. There were numerous horses in the stable, but a fierce black horse in the back caught Marcello's attention. Charmles went to his favorite horse, a white horse he'd named Medea—after the woman he was arranged to have wed. Marcello proceeded to the dark horse in the back.

"Don't waste youw time with Fury," Charmles said. "He doesn't let even the great SHARM-Lay wide him. So he definitely won't let wiff-waff like you wide."

The horse whinnied at Marcello as he approached, then bit at him, snapping his teeth loudly. But, Marcello wasn't swayed by the horse. The horse jumped to it's hindlegs, as if attempting to kick the Templar Captain. It came back to all its legs and stared Marcello in the eyes.

"This magnificent creature is just right for someone like me," Marcello said. "It obviously has the power to carry someone with power such as myself."

"What awe you talking about, you'we a commoner." Charmles' jaw flew open when Marcello mounted Fury. "You were just lucky."

"Let's get out of here," Marcello said, snapping the reins telling Fury to run. Charmles, who has no experience in horseback riding, did the same and nearly fell from his saddle. The two raced from Argonia and north toward the checkpoint, Marcello leaving behind his things.

"I don't understand why you let them go, boss," the fake Charmles said.

"Every action has a consequence," the tribesman said. "And with this action, the Templar has created the biggest consequence of his life." A dark liquid-like substance melted off the tribesman's body and formed a purple silhouette in front of Charmles. "You know the plan, tell your brother when he gets here, I must possess a soldier and do some of the other tasks."


	11. Declaration of War

The next morning troubling news reached the ears of the Argonians. The chancellor, or what everyone believed to be the chancellor made announcement after announcement.

"I must say, it's a sad, sad day," he began. "I've found out that, while on my way back here last night with King Charmles, our great leader, King Clavius was murdered. Right under the watchful eye of the Goddess." He pretended to cry. "And you know who did it!"

The audience asked, "Who."

"King Charmles' no good cousin, King of Trodain!" The audience gasped. "You may think he was a nice fellow, but when it came down to the decision, he got greedy! He wanted both kingdoms for himself, he even tried to strike a deal with Charmles that he'd only pose as the king while he made the decisions! His Majesty told him 'Cousin, I love the people of Argonia, I will not do this!' so he killed his uncle in retaliation!" The chancellor eyed the crowd. "And then they kidnapped the newly named king, King Charmles. To make the kidnapping seem like an act of faith they sent Templar Captain Marcello to do the dirty work!"

The audience began to talk among themselves. They were in total shock by the announcements being made by the chancellor.

"And to answer back, I SAY WE WAGE WAR WITH TRODAIN!" The crowd cheered loudly. "We will show the Kingdom of Trodain what true power is, and we will use Argon Lizards to fight this war!" He looked them over sinisterly. "Grab your weapons, we DECLARE WAR ON TRODAIN!"


	12. Marcello's Decision

Getting through the northern checkpoint was easy for the two. Upon seeing Charmles, the guards let them pass without hesitation. The guards also showed apathy towards the blood staining Marcello's shoulder, not like Marcello would have let them check it, if they showed compassion for the wound.

"Whewe, awe we going?" Charmles demanded. Marcello sighed at the question, it was pretty obvious where they were going—Arcadia. Marcello began to question why he even saved the young king, he was an annoying, conceited little brat and he wasn't all that bright either. They made it to Arcadia the same night they had left Argonia, before the announcement that would be made the next morning. They checked into the inn and Marcello inspected his wound.

"ACK!" He grunted as he applied an herb to it and wrapped a bandage around it, his blood quickly overwhelmed the white bandage. Marcello looked at his shirt, with that huge hole it would be pointless to even put it back on, so he was now to travel shirtless.

"How long do you think we can run?" Charmles asked from his bed.

"What?" Marcello spat, annoyed by the boy's voice.

"How long do you expect to run?" He repeated, "they can catch a commoner like you in a snap. Especially if they reveal that you are traveling with someone like me." Marcello lied on his own bed and listened to Charmles, he was right, they'd say Charmles was kidnapped. As Charmles babbled on saying "I'm a great king!" and "They know how great a person I am," Marcello fell asleep.

The next morning, Marcello woke to the absence of Charmles. He sighed angrily, assuming the kid probably blew their cover. He sat up and clutched his shoulder, grunting in pain. He was also feeling very dizzy.

"Oh you're awake!"

Marcello looked up at the door to see Charmles holding a tray of food. He watched Charmles as he sat on his own bed and began to eat his food, ignoring Marcello's stares. Marcello shook his head, he was foolish to think Charmles would bring him anything to eat.

"What time is it?"

"I am a King I do not answer to riff raff like you!"

Marcello used his free arm to pull up his rapier and hold it to Charmles' throat. "I'm not a patient person and I must say you're getting on my nerves."

"You can't talk to--" Charmles caught the glint in Marcello's eyes and gave in. "It's past noon."

"Was that so hard?"

Charmles ignored the question and continued to eat. Marcello sheathed his rapier and got to his feet. He decided asking Charmles anymore questions would be pointless, so he decided to leave Charmles in the room. Once outside he took in a deep breath of the air. Then he sighed. He looked around, the Arcadians seemed to be conversing about something—so he listened in.

"Did ya hear?"

"What?"

"Argonia and Trodain are going to war!"

NO!"

"Why!"

"I don't know the whole story, all I know is that the checkpoint has been closed off from Argonia, so not even we can get there."

"What about Chimera Wings?"

"Both kingdom's have created strong magical barriers to prevent access through the wings."

"What about alliances? I mean I hear the King of Trodain has traveled the world helping others, even the King of Ascantha, how is this going to play out?"

"That's a good question."

"This really puts a damper in Charmles grandparent's and Princess Medea's grandparent's wishes."

Marcello stopped listening. He couldn't help but wonder if they'd seen Charmles, but then again they probably didn't hear that Clavius was murdered. Marcello began to wonder if he were to die in Arcadia now, for now it was impossible to get to Trodain. He roamed the city then came to a conclusion—he was going back to Maella Abbey. It'd been nearly 3 months since he was at the Abbey and couldn't help but wonder how the Knights were fairing. It was decided he'd return to his rank as Templar Captain and turn his back on this war until a victor was chosen and he'd continue his journey only when there was peace.

But what about Charmles? Marcello figured he'd tell the kid he was leaving and didn't care what he did—as he probably didn't want to be anywhere near riff-raff—plus as long as they were never seen together again, Marcello could never be pinned as a kidnapper. Yes this was the perfect plan! He raced back to his room, but his joy quickly vanished.

"Hahahaha, seems that you don't have the foggiest idea of protecting royalty," a soldier said, holding onto Charmles. He was wearing dark armor and had long black hair. His eyes hid no malevolence, and were oddly familiar, as was his power. "You should have known you couldn't escape my grasp in a mere 12 hours."

"You..." Marcello stared at him. "Wait, what are you talking about?" Marcello was now able to identify the power. It showed a strong resemblance to Rhapthorne's powers."

A shadowy figure oozed out of the soldier's body and into Charmles. Charmles squealed in disgust as his body was becoming possessed by this being. Marcello dove for his rapier and drew it from its sheath. But, he was unable to attack.

"If I attack, I might kill the kid," Marcello muttered to himself. "As much as I hate the kid I can't kill him. But, I gotta do something!" Marcelo used his injured arm to reach forward and grab the tail of the "ooze" before it completely made it into Charmles.

"Let go!"

Marcello grunted. Just reaching forward was straining, but gripping was even worse.

"Let go!" A strong force pushed Marcello back. The tail finished seeping into Charmles' chest, beginning a weird transformation. Before Charmles was fully overtaken he tossed a Chimera Wing to Marcello, then fainted. Marcello grabbed it tight and raced out of the inn. He thought of the place he wanted to be—Maella Abbey. But another place crowded his mind, this the wing chose that place instead.


	13. The Lord's Decision

"Do you know what their dark magic can do?" the Lord Dragovian asked.

"Not precisely," one of the councilors said.

"First off the three 'beings' that accompany Rhathorne's son are doppelgangers. Capable of taking any form upon viewing it."

"What about Rhapthorne's son, you said he could possess anyone who is self-conscious. Face it, my lord, everyone is self-conscious."

"I'm aware of my mistake. It seems that when he possesses a person he finds their dreams of physical perfection and turns them into that. For example there was that Empychuu tribesman. He was a rather average person, until HE got to him, turning the man into a hulking behemoth." The Dragovian Lord paced a bit. "And it appears their magic has turned the Argonian lizards—I don't want to call them dragons, but what else can I call the beasts?"

"Is the world in even more danger than before?"

"...Maybe."

"What can we do?"

"I don't want to burden Eight any further, but it seems this is a matter for him and his friends," he paused. "Like last time."

"My lord, he HAS to respond, his world is in danger again. He can defeat Rhapthorne's son, I know it, this time we MUST help."

"Indeed." He drew his staff from the table. "Train well, my subjects, we have but little time to strike this threat."

"And I, my Lord?" Chen Mui asked. "What do you wish for me to do?"

"Go to your grandson and relay what we have spoken." Chen Mui nodded and proceeded out of the house.


	14. What has to be Done

Angelo's eyes widened upon the sudden crash upon the table he was sitting. He leaned forward to get a better glimpse of who had appeared in front of him. It was a shirtless male with short black hair—Angelo knew who it was.

"Brother..." Angelo said as Marcello got to his feet. Angelo watched as Marcello looked around, notably infuriated for one reason or another.

"This isn't the Abbey!"

"The abbey?" Angelo looked at him, perplexed. "You missed Maella Abbey by a long shot." Angelo stifled a chuckle. "You're in Trodain."

"Trodain!" Marcello looked at Angelo, hoping he was joking. "How did I arrive in Trodain!"

"I think you missed your darling little brother so much you had to visit him," Angelo commented in a mock baby tone. Marcello gritted his teeth angrily. "Where's your shirt, brother?"

"Stop calling me that," Marcello said walking to the door, Angelo simply watched him stop at the door. Marcello turned and went back, picked up his rapier, then left the room. Angelo smirked and shook his head.

As he roamed the corridors of Trodain Castle, Marcello pondered how he'd ended up in the castle in the first place. How could the chimera wing miss the target by such a wide margin? He glimpsed out a nearby window—the sun was setting, painting the sky with a magnificent orange.

"You should request a bed." Marcello spun around. It was Angelo.

"Why do you insist on bothering me at every turn?"

Angelo shrugged and shook his head, "just looking out for my older brother."

"I'm not going to tell you again--"

"'Stop calling me that!'" Angelo said, "I know!" Angelo walked in front of Marcello and handed him a key. "It's to my room on the third floor. You can't miss it, it's the one that says 'Angelo' on it. Use it, Marcello, you need the rest."

"What are you guys doing about Argonia?" Marcello decided to ask.

"We don't know yet."

Off in the castle's council room, Eight, Medea, Trode, and the vizier spoke on the matter of the war. Eight's cheek sank into his fist as he listened to what the vizier had to say. Medea sat upright, as she was well accustomed to. Every so often Eight would look at Medea, who would flash a quick smile before gesturing for her husband to pay attention to the vizier.

The vizier droned onward with his beliefs toward a swift end to the war, quickly forging alliances with those he'd helped on his journey. Eight yearned to battle, but refused to do so if it were his cousin he'd have to battle. His grandfather, Chen Mui, had been in the Dragovian Sanctuary for months now, he long awaited the news he'd bring.

"What do you think, Your Majesty?"

"I think its quite the--"

"Not you, Trode," the vizier snapped. Trode frowned and held his tongue, looking to his son-in-law to voice his opinion.

"I don't like it," Eight said, hesitantly. "But, if it must be done."

"Shall I make the arrangements?" Eight simply waved his hand, gesturing him to do what ever needed to be done.

A boy walked into the room and strode to Eight and whispered in his ear. The king looked at him a bit shocked and quickly followed the boy out of the room. Trode, Medea, and the vizier glanced at each other before following them.

The boy brought them into the courtyard, where a black horse was causing much ruckus. It snapped it's jaws at anyone who tried to approach it and continued to thrust it's legs about. Among the crowd of people attempting to subdue the horse were Jessica and Angelo.

"How'd this horse make it here?" Eight asked. The boy shrugged.

Eight tried his hand at subduing the beast but was knocked to the floor. He lunged forward again to calm the beast down, who, once again threw him down. The horse and Eight glared into each other's eyes for awhile. The horse shook his head fiercely and became angry once more.

"Back away from the horse!" Marcello yelled as he approached his horse. Marcello got close to the horse and patted him on his neck.

"Marcello!" Jessica shouted.

"How'd you get here, Marcello?" Eight asked.

"Chimera Wing," Marcello said, not looking back at his inquisitor.

"Chimera--"

"That's impossible, I made sure my spell was flawless!" Jessica shouted.

"Not as flawless as you may think." Marcello rubbed Fury along his neck, ignoring the fireball forming in Jessica's hands. He then turned to Eight. "I demand a ship to take me to Maella Abbey."

The vizier stepped from the crowd, "You can't talk to the--"

"Shut up, short stack!" Marcello shouted at the vizier.

Eight stepped up to Marcello and they locked eyes. For nearly five minutes the two stood there staring into each others eyes, not moving.

Eight sighed and said, "We need all of our ships right now, my kingdom is fighting a war right now." Marcello opened his mouth. "Before you say anything you'll regret—I offer you a room to stay in, a stable for your beast of a horse, and I'll give you healers for that atrocious shoulder wound." The crowd looked at Eight as if he were crazy.

Marcello smirked and walked by Eight, purposely colliding with his shoulder, pulling on Fury's reins. The crowd made a pathway for Marcello as he proceeded to the stables.

"Ey, guv, yer sure yer know wot yer doin'?" Yangus asked.

"Yes, no, maybe, not really," Eight said. "But what else can I do?"

"He has a point there, Yangus," Angelo responded. "This is probably the only way King Eight can make my brother moderately happy without putting ourselves in direct danger."

"I hope we can get rid of him soon," Jessica said, making a fist.

"Wot are ye all doin' stand'n 'round fer?" Red shouted at the crowd. "Go back to ye business!" The crowd quickly dispersed upon her order.

"Eight, look!" Medea shouted pointing to the sky. A dragon was heading toward them. When it landed it instantly transformed into Chen Mui, Eight's grandfather.

"I have some grave news, my dear grandson."


	15. A Cure for These Wounds

"You come to interrogate me too?" Marcello asked, lying on his bed. "Did your 'darling wife' send you, 'Your Majesty?'"

"No, I am not here to interrogate you," Eight answered, standing in the door.

"Arrest me?"

"No."

"Then what then?" Marcello frowned, "why are you in my room!"

"Last I checked this is MY castle," Eight said, trying to not crack a smile. "But I'll answer your question." Eight walked to the desk on the side of the room and grabbed a stool and brought it over to the bed and sat. "We finally found out what has been going on in Argonia. . ."

"Uh huh."

"Did anyone inform you of the power that my kingdom is about to go against?" Eight read Marcello's puzzled look. "The person behind all this Rhapthorne's son, by what my grandfather tells me."

"You still haven't answered my question," Marcello said bluntly.

"I want to enlist you," Eight answered. "Sure your brother, Jessica, Yangus, and I defeated Rhapthorne but, you would be an asset as well, being the only one strong enough to suppress his influence."

"Flattering words won't work with me, 'king'," Marcello said angrily. "And if I refuse? Will you kick me out of the castle?"

"And let you wonder unprotected?"

"I can--"

"I know, I wasn't questioning your abilities, but either way I won't let you leave until that wound is healed." Eight got to his feet and began to leave. "I hope you'll change your mind." Marcello rolled his eyes and slammed his head into his pillow, falling asleep.

Marcello watched the changes that Trodain had taken to withstand a war against a greater evil. He watched as Angelo and Yangus were assigned to train soldiers into elite warriors capable of using multitudes of weapons, Jessica teaching magic to those who wished to learn, and Eight learning from both the Lord of the Dragovians and his grandfather how to increase his strength as a Dragovian Warrior. None of them ever acknowledging Marcello, which he enjoyed.

What irritated Marcello, though, was that as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, his wound showed no signs of recovery or any attempts toward recovery. He was ready to leave Trodain and forget about the war.

"Marcello," Angelo whispered as he entered the library to find his half-brother buried behind a pile of books. "Has this been the highlight of your vacation?" Marcello took his eyes from the book to glare at Angelo as he approached. "Wait, I know that book, its a remedy book." Angelo reached for the book but Marcello snatched it away, aggravating his wound. "You know if you want to be healed, I'm sure Jessica--"

"I don't want help from any of you lot!" Marcello shut the book.

Angelo inspected the pile of books, they were all healing books, but not all for external wounds, there were a couple about spiritual and emotional wounds. This caused Angelo to wonder how long Marcello had been reading through these type of books, but he decided not to ask and upset Marcello.

"I leave you, Marcello," Angelo finally said, going to another bookshelf to find books on weaponry so he could further train the soldiers.

For the first time the half-brothers spent an entire day together in the library. Though they remained silent, it had seemed as though they accepted each other as they read through their respective books. Finally, at sunset, Angelo had amassed as many books that could help him and Yangus and he left the library, muttering "au revoir" upon the deaf, stubborn ears of Marcello.

Angelo wasn't the last of the people that would come into the library as Marcello studied. As everyone ran out of subject-matter to teach, save for Chen Mui and the Dragovian Lord, they began to flood the library. First, was Yangus who had come to learn how to make better weapons without use of an alchemy pot. When he saw Marcello he simply grunted and grabbed his books and left. Then there was Jessica who needed more spells to teach. Then lastly, Queen Medea and her father arrived to research more recipes for the alchemy pot. As Trode searched, Medea watched Marcello, a surge of pity rising in her.

Late one night, Medea decided to return a book that she had just finished reading as Eight had slept. She walked down the dark cold hallways of the castle, he footsteps too soft to be heard. Something about walking through the castle at night seemed bring her joy, maybe because she and her husband used to go on escapades during the night when he was a simple guard. When she arrived she found Marcello, head down on the table, sleeping. She shook her head as she put the book back.

"Mama, don't go," he muttered in his sleep, as she began to leave. She turned and looked at him. He repeated himself.

"Marcello," she said, as she poked his neck. "Wake up." She poked him again. "Marcello!" And again. She continued until he finally groaned. "Get to your room, Marcello."

"No. . ." He muttered, only half awake.

"Come on, get up," she said, seizing his arm. As she pulled him up, he came to.

"What. . . are you doing?" he asked, still trying to fight his sleep.

"Taking you to your room, now cooperate." Medea hooked his arm around her neck to support his weight. "You gotta cooperate, I'm not that strong."

"Mm hm." Marcello responded, nodding back off. He still had enough consciousness to move his feet on cue, waking up momentarily with each step.

It took about twenty minutes to get Marcello back to his room, once there Marcello brought up enough strength to ask, "Why?"

"I asked myself the same question as we walked here, and I came up with the same answer." Marcello stood in the doorway, waiting for an answer. "Someone that has been through as much as you deserves a friend."

"I don't want a friend. And I don't want to fight for you."

"Too bad, you've got one. And you don't have to fight." Medea smirked, realizing how a bit easier it was to communicate with him was. "Good night, Marcello."

Marcello closed the door as she left. He scratched his head, a bit puzzled by what just happened. He shrugged and fell into his bed and slept.


	16. Abbot Again

When Marcello woke he couldn't help but think about what Medea had said. The situation left him confused but he knew one thing, healed or not he needed to leave Trodain before any else in Angelo's circle of friends decided to "accept" him. He quickly grabbed his pack and left his room. It was still pretty early so everyone was still sleep. He tried to remain as silent as possible as he crept through the halls of the castle. Before he going to the stable for Fury he knew he should make a pit stop at the armory.

He easily picked the lock to the armory and helped himself to the treasure chests. Among the inventory he received was a new rapier, a new bow, and some new armor. He quickly stuffed the items into his pack and quickly headed for the stables.

When he reached the stables, Fury glared at him, as he always did when Marcello had fed him, since he was the only one capable of approaching the horse. He fastened all the necessary equipment to the horse and mounted.

"Come, let's go." As Fury walked out of the stable, Marcello looked to the sky, the sun wasn't even rising yet. Marcello made sure Fury continued to walk slowly as running would probably produce too much noise and alert anyone within earshot. But, once he got to the gate, Fury broke out in a run of tremendous speed. And without looking back, Marcello had fled Trodain.

Argonian soldiers burst into the throne room, tugging on chains wrapped around the neck of a Great Argon Lizard. The lizard growled and tugged back as his captives tried to subdue him. The doppelganger impersonating the chancellor approached the lizard. He stared in the beasts eyes and it calmed down.

"You may go."

As the soldiers left one whispered, "won't capturing all these Argon lizards corrupt the tradition?"

"Don't question the king," the other responded.

The door slammed shut and the doppelganger continued to stare into the lizards eyes. The beast became entranced by the doppelganger as he chanted in a mysterious language. As he chanted the lizard began to change into something more powerful and deadly, as its claws and teeth sharpened and eyes became more menacing. But as he finished his chant the lizard was shrouded by a dark purple cloud.

A voice came from behind the door to the throne room, "Um...there is someone named Felix here."

The voice of the soldier was filled with so much fear it brought a smirk to the doppelganger's face. "Send him in!"

"Your Majesty," a guard said to Eight as he passed. The guard seemed to be worried. "The Templar has left." Eight looked at him, reading his face to see if he was kidding. He wasn't. "Should we send a scout?"

"No," Eight said without hesitation. "Marcello chose to leave, might as well respect his wishes."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Have you seen Angelo?"

"Yes, he's on the east tower."

Angelo stood on the tower looking to the sky. The sun had barely risen from when Marcello had left. Angelo had watched him leave and was only surprised King Eight's order kept him in Trodain for three months.

"Where do you think he is headed?" Eight asked upon arrival, Angelo never turned to him.

"Port Prospect, more than likely," Angelo answered. "When he crashed here he said he wanted to be at the Abbey." Angelo felt Eight's look of confusion and shrugged. "I don't know how he ended up in Trodain."

"Hm, I hope he has another Chimera Wing, because the captains at Port Prospect are refusing to ferry anyone to Pereguin Quay."

"What about Jessica's barrier?"

"If he could break through it to get here where its most powerful, then he'll make it through Port Prospect where it's weaker."

"Makes sense," Angelo said, "I guess." Angelo turned to Eight finally. "Where is Jessica anyway?"

"She went to go celebrate with the Alexandrians."

"I see."

"Something on your mind, Angelo?"

"No, nothing."

Marcello reached into his bag and grabbed his last Chimera Wing. He clutched it tightly, being sure that Maella Abbey was completely focused in his mind. And with a quick jolt, Marcello was transported from his position in Port Prospect. When Marcello opened his eyes, this time he was at his destination—he was back at Maella Abbey. Everything had come full circle.

Surprisingly, there were an increased number of Templars around the Abbey. They all seemed ready for anything, and had quickly moved toward their weapons upon Marcello's arrival. Seeing that it was their former Captain they eased up a bit. Finally a Templar approached Marcello.

"What's going on here?" Marcello asked, refusing to look at the Templar directly. Though he still called the Abbey home, he still felt shame about his actions and parts of him feared if the knowledge had reached the ears of his former subordinates.

"Lord High Priest Rolo has taken charge since your departure, sir," the Templar responded with an due, and unwanted, respect. "And he said to send you to him if you ever were to arrive."

Marcello frowned. Rolo was in the same group as Angelo, the group of people he wished never to associate with again. Through gritted teeth he inquired, "Where is the 'Lord High Priest'?"

"The Abbot's quarters, sir."

Marcello secured Fury in a good location before proceeding toward the structure which Abbot Francisco once resided. The inside of the building was neat, just as the Abbot kept it. He ascended the stairs slowly, dreading each step toward seeing this short bald man. Reaching the top step, he looked upon the robed man.

"Ah, Marcello, I knew you'd return sooner or later," Rolo said, looking at the young man. "How long has it been? Too long I tell you!" Marcello wasn't too receptive to the kindness Rolo was showing, what was he up to? "Sit. Sit."

"What are you up to old man?" Marcello asked, not moving from his position. "Why is it that none of the Templars seem to know about my actions at Neos?" Marcello frowned and drew his rapier, "are you trying to blackmail me!"

"Oh, they know," Rolo commented, adjusting a few rings on his fingers, "they just refuse to believe."

"Am I supposed to believe that!" Marcello pointed his weapon toward the Lord High Priest. "What about the Templars I'd brought with me?"

"Apparently," he began, "they never came back."

Marcello sat at the desk at the side of the room. "So why did you want to speak to me?" He sheathed his rapier and glared at the Lord High Priest.

"I wish to instate you as the Abbot of Maella Abbey," Rolo answered. Marcello's glare didn't ease after hearing this, in fact he'd grown angrier. Why in the world would he want him to be the Abbot of Maella Abbey, was it his form of a sick joke? "I want you to know that, you are always welcome into the church and I have realized—due to my time on Purgatory Island—that no one is beyond redemption. So long as they choose to be redeemed."

Marcello rolled his eyes, there had to be more to his intentions, no one could change so much in such a short time. Whatever the circumstances toward this offer, it was perfect for Marcello, he could remain at the Abbey and hopefully turn away from the war completely. "I'll take the position."

"Excellent, well, I'm going to return home, may the Goddess be with you." And with that Rolo left. Marcello tapped his fingers on the desk before smirking deviously. He had claimed the title of Abbot and this time it was legitimate. Somewhere in the sky his mother was proud. . . right?


	17. Proposal

Marcello's leadership abilities had been called under question. He'd finally returned and had become Abbot, but the Templar's had turned to him for their next move toward the war. But Marcello wanted NOTHING to do with that war. His half-brother fought for Trodain, while whatever that... THING was had merged with Charmles. If anything all he wanted to do was watch as they both decimated each other. A couple of the Templar had even threatened to leave, though the young Abbot could care less.

How much time had passed since the war began anyway? Marcello wanted to say two years. . . but there's no way that this war could have been fought for this long. Thats just stupid. As he finished signing his name to a paper, he looked at the wall. Though he would not admit it, he felt. . . empty. Marcello got to his feet and walked to his mirror, observing his hair thoroughly. It had grown a lot, and what was with his goatee? Though he did like his new look.

But there was another thing bothering him. The armor he had "stolen" turned out to be a gift from Medea. The silver-blue chest plate bearing an elegant M on it came with a note from the queen, reading: "So predictable, you are." The rapier and the bow, even, were made especially for him. He wanted to despise Medea, but at the same time, he felt he couldn't.

"Abbot Marcello?" a templar said upon entering his room. "Another message from Ascantha."

"Great..." Marcello snatched the sheet of paper away from the Templar. He looked over the note quickly before throwing it to the floor. Emma was starting to annoy him with her constant messages. He'd had enough now. He picked up his armor, weapon, and looked at the templar. "I'm going to Ascantha.

"Yes, sir."

Fury glared at Marcello as he approached. The horse, as its name suggested, was furious with Marcello whom never came to visit, ride, nor feed the beast. Though knowing this, Marcello strode to the horse as coolly as if he had taken care of it like a true master would. Fury jumped to its hindlegs, just as it had done when they'd first met.

"Don't give me that," he said to the horse. "I've not the time or a destination before, but now I do." Marcello waited for it to return to its legs. "Get down here!"

The horse reluctantly returned to the ground and looked into Marcello's eyes. The horse allowed Marcello to mount him, though it was not pleased with its "master." Marcello rode past Simpleton on his way to Ascantha. There was an odd feeling welling up inside of him, though he did not understand what. Maybe it was the fact that he was leaving the Abbey once more, knowing how much he'd hated it. But at the same time, there was a certain anxiety that grew within him as he approached Ascantha. He reached the the home of the old lady—Emma's grandmother—and passed the building heading toward the kingdom, that feeling still growing.

Reaching Ascantha, Marcello noted the oddness of the city. The guards seemed awkward, though they seemed to ease a bit upon seeing him. The last time he'd come here was at night and even then the city was more vibrant. What was going on?

"Where's that peasant girl Emma?"

"In... in the castle, should be in the throne room," the guard replied. "Would you like me to--"

Marcello didn't stay to hear the rest. All he wanted to know was where Emma was, he was going to tell her to stop sending him letters, and then he was going to return to the Abbey and wait for the stupid war to end.

"Marcello!"A girls voice shouted upon his entrance into the throne room. Marcello could only see Emma for a brief second before his vision was obstructed by a guard.

"Took you long enough," the guard said, seizing him.

Marcello tried to free himself before noticing Emma transforming from being a young girl to a shadowy figure with avian features. The creature moved toward Marcello and looked him in the eyes.

"You are a sneaky person you know that?" the doppelganger said. "Broke a magic seal even. Our lord would like to know how you pulled that off." He looked at the guard. "Convince him to talk."

The guard applied pressure to Marcello's neck, "respond to Crios if you know what's good for you."

Marcello remained silent. These were those idiots employed to that... that THING that overtook Charmles. Whatever they were they were below him, and therefore he had no need to follow an order, no matter how much pain they'd put him through.

"Silence, eh?" Crios smirked. "Well I would like to bargain with you." Another guard gave Crios a ring. "This is a ring, crafted by those of our realm, capable of increasing the power of its denizens." Crios massaged the dark ring coolly, turning his back to Marcello. "You came into contact with Rhapthorne, correct?"

Marcello didn't answer, instead he stared at the ring, that feeling he felt when approaching the city returning. Something about the ring... he had to have it.

"So... as such, this ring can possibly increase your powers even greater, seeing as how you came into close contact with our lords father." The words of more power excited Marcello. "And for this ring we ask you to lead your Templar's against Trodain."

Of course that's what they wanted. Marcello looked around. Feeling another sense that he never felt. He wanted to know where Emma was. Why? He began to convince himself it was the fact he was called her by "Emma" yet hadn't seen her. Others might have said he cared for her. NO this wasn't the case. He was sitting comfortably at home before being summoned her. Though in the back of his mind he felt that he was already being summoned there, before the fake letters had arrived. Could it have been the ring?

The ring looked nice, and its promises of power made it seem even more appealing. With that power he could defeat his brother and his friends, and maybe even Rhapthorne's son himself.

"Where's Emma?" He asked, shocking even himself. He was expecting the first thing to come from his mouth was agreeing to the proposal, not asking where the girl was.

"In the dungeon," Crios answered. "As far as anyone knows," Crios looked at Marcello's face, "King Pavan has decided to aid Argonia in its war against Trodain." Crios smirked and asked, "will we also have the might of the Templars?"

Marcello paused before answering, "of course."

"Excellent." The guard let go of Marcello and Crios threw him the ring. "We move out tomorrow, get your men ready by midday. Welcome to the army." Crios shooed him away.

Marcello went back downstairs and looked at the other guards. None of them seemed to be doppelgangers in disguise. He ushered a few of them over. "Whatever prisoners there are, free them and get them some place safe."

"But what about--"

"Just do it!"

"Yes, sir!"

Marcello watched as they left. He quickly got to Fury and raced off, hoping the doppelgangers would be stupid enough to not check on their prisoners, and allowing Emma and the King to be set free.

**Its been awhile since I did a chapter I know... So sorry. Hope you all like this one and that I can continue further to its completion.**


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